


Drunk Enough

by LadyFogg



Series: Constantine Oneshots & Prompts [11]
Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine (TV), Hellblazer
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Bathtub Sex, Bittersweet, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Language, Massage, Sex, Smut, Smut & Feels, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: John comes for a visit, looking for a little company after a rough job. Still angry at him for what happened during his last visit, plus frustrated with work, you're not exactly happy to see him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this did not come out how I planned but I'm really digging it. Prompt #12 combines several prompts:  
> \- John gives the very stressed/upset reader an erotic massage  
> \- John/reader taking a bath together and teasing and having sex while they do it  
> \- Reader gives John a massage and comfort sex when he's upset about something
> 
> Fic Song: https://open.spotify.com/track/5O0Cen73mzK8ifTqf4uP14

 

You’re exhausted. Work was stressful and draining, to the point where you wanted to either punch someone or cry. You haven’t decided which. Letting yourself into your apartment, you're eager to relax. Thankfully your weekend is free and you plan to spend the time doing absolutely nothing.

After locking the door, you kick out of your shoes and pause when something catches your eye. There’s a piece of fabric in the middle of the floor of your hallway. You know for a fact it wasn’t there when you left, so you curiously bend down to pick it up. 

It’s a red tie. 

Frowning, you continue down the hall to find a pair of black shoes. Socks are in the living room archway, and when you see a tan trench coat draped over your armchair, you clench your jaw. Looks like John has come for a visit. He has some fucking nerve. 

There is an arrangement between the two of you, well, there had been anyway. Nothing too serious, but he visited regularly for sex and a place to sleep. It was only natural you would develop feelings for him. You weren’t expecting him to reciprocate, you mostly told him because you don’t like holding things back. The look on his face said it all and the next morning you awoke to an empty bed and a hastily scribbled note that simply said:  _ Sorry _ . 

Text messages and voicemails were never answered and you resigned yourself to the fact that you scared him away. Evidently this is not the case. 

You find his shirt on the kitchen floor, the remains of a cigarette butt in the sink. Pants point the way to your bedroom. Your jacket and purse are dropped on the kitchen table as you sigh heavily. This is not what you wanted to deal with tonight. If he thinks you’re not going to call him out on his bullshit, he will be sadly mistaken. You step into the room, fully expecting to find John laid out on your bed, underwear in hand as he presents himself to you. It is, after all, his preferred choice of greeting. 

Instead, the room is empty. John’s underwear hangs from the doorknob of the master bathroom, the door cracked enough for you to see the light is on. After a moment to prepare yourself, you take a deep breath before you march to the bathroom. 

The sight of John Constantine lounging in a bubble bath with a cigarette in one hand and a brandy glass in another is an image you’ll never forget. It stops you dead and replaces your anger with surprise. 

He lifts his head with a smirk. “Hello, love,” he says. “Been awhile.” 

“What are you doing in my tub?” you question with bewilderment.

“Well, funny story,” John says, placing the cigarette between his lips. “Original plan was to do my usual naked display. But you were taking so long, figured I’d have a quick wash. Tub looked mighty inviting and well, here I am.” 

“And the brandy?” you ask. “I had that tucked away.” 

“You can’t hide booze from me,” John says, taking a drag. 

“Bubbles?”

“Oi, might as well go all out,” he says, sipping his drink. He eyes you warily, finally acknowledging your chilly mood. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” you say, leaning on the door frame with your arms crossed. “Of course, you would know that if you bothered to return any of my calls or text messages.” 

John sighs. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry about that, love.” 

“Sorry for what? Ignoring me? Leaving without saying a proper goodbye?” you list. “Not even bothering to let me know you were safe?”

John puts the glass down so he can rub the back of his neck. “All of it,” he says. “Do you want me to leave?”

It’s a serious question, which only John Constantine can ask while lounging in a bath surrounded by lavender scented bubbles. You study him for a long time, taking in the bags under his eyes. He would go if you asked, but you can tell that he doesn’t want to. And truth be told, now that he’s finally here, you don’t want him to do either. Who knows how long he’d disappear for this time? 

“No. That’s alright,” you say. “Enjoy the bath.” 

John gives you a relieved smile and picks up his glass again. “Why don’t you join?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

You can’t hold back the smirk that spreads across your face. It feels so natural and easy, this thing with John. There is still some tension, but after the day you had, a bubble bath with a hot man sounds like a blessing. You straighten your stance, reaching for the buttons on your blouse. 

John watches you undress, smirking around his cigarette. “Was sure you were going to tell me to piss off and flip me the bird,” he says. 

“Oh believe me, the thought crossed my mind,” you say, stepping out of your skirt and panties while you slide your blouse down your arms. “Lucky for you, I’m not feeling up to a fight tonight. I’d rather drink and enjoy some much needed naked time.” You chuck your bra to the side and strut over to the tub. 

John reaches forward to smack your ass as you climb in. “That’s it, love,” he grins.  

The water is mercifully hot and you moan slightly as you slide into it. “Got to admit, I am surprised to see you,” you say, straddling his lap. “How long you in town for?”

“Couple’a days,” John says, handing you his glass. “You think you’re up for it?” 

“God yes,” you say, sipping the brandy. The liquid burns going down, the warmth settling into your belly in the most comforting way. “Right after you tell me why you left without saying anything.”

John winces. He was probably hoping you were done with that subject. Just because you don’t want a fight, doesn’t mean you don’t want answers. “I was a coward,” he admits. “Plain and simple. You were honest, I got scared. I didn’t mean to hurt you, love.” 

Knowing John, that’s as good as you’re going to get from him. Satisfied with his apology, you turn to rest your back against his chest and he hooks his arm around your waist to squeeze you close. “You’re forgiven...for now.” 

“Ta,” John says. You can hear the relief in his voice and he leans in to kiss your shoulder. “You seem off. Everything alright? I mean, besides the justifiable anger towards me.”

“No, it’s not alright. Work was terrible, has been for awhile. They made me stay late every day this week and I’m not going to get credit for anything I worked on. It’s all bullshit,” you say. “I’m exhausted and probably going to quit. How are you? I’ve been worried.” 

John flicks his cigarette into the toilet before walking his fingers up your bare arm. “I’m just fine, love,” he says, though you don’t believe him. He strokes your shoulder, tickling you slightly and grinning when you bat his hand away. 

“What brings you to town?” you ask, handing the glass back to him. 

“Sloth demon,” John explains. “Nasty piece of work. Thankfully was quick to dispatch. Figured I’d pop in and visit.” 

“Just like that?” you raise your eyebrow. “I know you, John. You wouldn’t just show up here after all this time if you didn’t need something. And given you knew I was mad at you, it’s not just because you needed a place to stay.” At John’s silence you sigh and ask tentatively, “Casualties?” 

John nods, resting his forehead against your temple. “Yeah,” he says. 

That explains it. The anger inside you dissipates and you're left feeling sorry for him. You could never do what he does, and you imagine his job is the reason he ditched you when feelings got involved. Well, that and all the underlying abandonment issues he clearly has. 

“Well, I'm sorry to hear that. Even if it did lead to you finally talking to me,” you tell him. 

“Hankering for some John Constantine?” he purrs, placing a wet kiss on your neck. 

“Oh yeah, all the time,” you respond. 

Chuckling at your sarcasm, John downs the rest of the brandy and places the glass on the floor next to the tub. You close your eyes and lean your head back, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet intimacy. You’ve had a few dates since John, but there’s nothing like being with someone you’ve known for a long time. Firm hands glide up your stomach to eventually cup your breasts, spreading the suds across the supple skin. His lips drag along your shoulder, where he gives a teasing nip. 

You grin and grind onto his lap, making John’s cock twitch with interest. This feels familiar and different at the same time. Rather than rushing to make things sexual, as he would normally do, John shuts his eyes and rests his head on the edge of the tub. These type of moments with John are rare. In fact, you don’t remember a time where he just held you like this. 

John hands still massage your breasts. His thumbs teasingly slide across your nipples for a moment, but you push them away, linking your fingers with his under the water. He understands, giving your hand a thoughtful squeeze. 

After a few minutes of relaxing, you pick up your washcloth and start to clean yourself. John leans forward so he can watch you run the rag up your leg and then down your chest. 

“Way better evening than originally planned,” he says. 

“Why? What were you going to do if you didn’t come here?” you ask. “Or if I kicked you out?”

“Get drunk, find a room somewhere, have a wank, wallow in self-pity and pass out,” he answers. 

“Oh, I doubt that. I’m sure you would have found someone to wank it for you,” is your teasing response. You have to tease him, because you know if you try to question him further he’ll clam up. You said what you had to say and he apologized. You’re not going to dwell on it. Not right now at least. 

“Probably,” John says. “Not feeling a random encounter. Wanted something more…” He flounders as he tries to find the right word. 

“Familiar?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder. 

John smiles softly. “Aye, familiar,” he agrees. “But, the word I was looking for was ‘meaningful’.” 

He leans forward to capture your lips, forcing you to twist your body so you can cup his stubbled cheek. It’s a sweet kiss, slow and sensual, the kind you can only share with someone with whom you have a history. It’s not so much exploring as getting reacquainted. His tongue probes your lips and you let him in with a low moan, taking a moment to straddle his lap once again. His kisses become hungry as his cock swells between your legs. 

“Shouldn’t we finish washing up first?” you smirk, when you're forced to catch your breath. 

“What’s the point?” John asks, grabbing your ass with both hands. “We’re just going to get dirty again.” 

“You don’t want me to rub you down with my hands then. Duly noted,” you tease. 

“Now hold on, love,” John says. “Let’s not get too hasty.” 

Kissing him feels just as amazing as it did all those months ago. As much as you want to draw it out however, you’re more anxious to get your hands on him. You pick up the washcloth and lather it with soap. John watches with amusement, eyes growing hooded as you pass the cloth over his chest. His lips curl when your hand slips under the water, until you stroke his side. You hear the sharp intake of breath, glancing up in time to see him wince with pain. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“S’nothing,” John insists. “Just sore.” 

You frown and push the bubbles away to see a purple bruise decorating the area around his rib. “Doesn’t look like nothing,” you say. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, love,” John says. “Now, there’s a spot a bit south that needs your attention.” 

“Really?” you ask. “Well, let me see if I can find it.” Your hand slips under the water, finding his thigh. 

“Little to the left. Up a bit,” John directs. “No, too far…” You wrap your fingers around his cock and squeeze. “That’s the ticket.” With a lazy grin, John’s head falls back onto the edge of the tub, his eyes drifting closed. 

You lean forward to kiss his neck, lapping at the salty skin. Under the water, you jerk him off with firm strokes, just the way he likes.

“Mmm, give us a nibble,” John hums. When you give him a teasing bite, he makes an excited noise. “Yesss, that’s the stuff, love.” 

You chuckle and continue to stroke him while biting his neck. One of his hands tangles in your hair, the other sliding up your wet thigh. After awhile, he draws you into a kiss, which you gladly accept. Arm snaking around your waist, he pulls you to him. Your hand slips from his cock as your chest presses to his. John trails his kiss down your neck, making you arch your back so he can reach your breasts. He cups one in his firm hand, lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking greedily to drag a moan out of you. 

The water splashes as he pulls you even closer, tongue swirling around the bud in his mouth. Your hands find purchase in his hair, fingers tugging on the damp strands. 

“John, your tongue never fails to disappoint,” you moan, smiling down at him. 

John pulls back to smirk up at you. “Ta for that,” he says, nuzzling your chest. “Bet my cock can make you moan louder than my tongue can.” 

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” you tease. “It’s been awhile. We might have to test it and find out.” 

John reaches down to grip himself, allowing you to sink onto his cock. Inhaling sharply, you force yourself to relax, allowing him to slowly fill you. He bites his bottom lip when you rise up and down with small movements, taking him further in each time. Mouth seeking yours, John groans and you swallow it greedily just as you take him all the way in. He hooks his arms under yours, hands coming up to rest on your shoulders. You press your forehead to his, breathing him in, giving yourself a moment to adjust. Your hands mirror his, resting on his shoulders as you lift and drop back down. 

John groans and you repeat the action, reveling in the fullness. He always could stretch and fill you so deliciously. 

“Fuck, John,” you mutter, lips brushing his. 

This time when you lift yourself, he brings you down, hips snapping up at the same time. You moan, head thrown back as you begin to slowly ride him. John’s mouth finds your neck again, sucking on the sensitive skin. The water splashes around you both, the warmth of the bath and the heat of John’s body making your cheeks flush. He guides you into another kiss, eagerly tasting your mouth. 

It feels wonderful to be with him again. Fucking him reminds you just how long it’s been since the last time you were together. Though this time everything is different. He looks so tired, and the job was clearly harder than he was letting on. You can feel the tension in his shoulders, though that starts to melt away with each thrust. 

John leans forward, forcing you off his lap. You let him press you to the opposite end of the tub, your legs gliding through the water to wrap around his waist. Arms cradling you, he thrusts deeply now that he has a better angle. You gasp and buck against him as he takes you. Vaguely you’re aware of the water splashing over the edge of the tub. 

“Shit,” you gasp, looking at the floor. 

John chuckles, “Ignore it, love,” he urges, lips descending on your collarbone. 

“Make me.” 

He grabs the tub’s edge for leverage and thrusts as deep as he can, hips smacking yours and sending water all over the floor. You move with him desperately, hands sliding down his tone back to grip his round ass. The muscles flex tantalizingly, and you give one cheek a hard slap. 

John moans, spurred on by the action. You squeeze him again, then drag your fingers between his cheeks suggestively. John’s eyes sparkle and he nods excitedly, practically smashing his mouth to yours. You smirk into the kiss, pressing your finger into his asshole. The soap and water make it easy, though, you have the sneaking suspicion he may have been playing with himself before you got home. 

John keeps kissing you, grunting with each press of his hips. While he fucks you, you crook your finger, loving the whimpers and noises you're able to coax out of him. John has always been vocal during sex, and that only amplifies when you brush his prostate. His hand dives under the water, slipping between your bodies to seek your clit.With each swirl of his thumb your orgasm builds. Done teasing, you press hard against that magical spot and John is sent into convulsions, crying out. You moan, searching for a kiss, which he grants, giving you the final push you need. 

Jerking and twitching underneath John, your orgasm forces you to cling to him, moaning as your hips rock up to meet his. Your finger slips out as you ride your release, and you swear you hear him whimper with dismay.

“Love it when you come for me,” he groans. “So bloody hot.” 

He pulls away, drawing out of you abruptly, this time making you be the one to whine at the loss. Hand closing around his cock, he fists himself as he stares at you. 

“Yessss, love watching you come,” you purr, eyes never leaving his. 

John smirks, panting heavily. “Good. ‘Cause m’gonna come all over you,” he manages to croak. 

Rising on his knees, John lets out a strangled moan as he pumps his release across your chest. Head thrown back, the look on his face is beautiful. Eyebrows knitted together, teeth sinking into his bottom lip...he’s completely lost in the sensation and you want to remember that expression forever. 

When he finishes, he flops back with a huff, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “Jus’ what I needed.” 

“Same,” you giggle, cleaning off his jizz. You make a face as it swirls through the water. “We should get out.” 

“Aye, agreed,” John says, unstopping the tub. He stands and steps out, yanking a towel off the rack. Wrapping it around his waist, he extends his hand to help you up. 

You suck your teeth when you step into a big puddle. “God dammit,” you sigh. 

John grabs another towel to wrap around you. “Worth it,” he says. He pulls you in for one more kiss, before pinching your ass through the towel. “Go on. I’ll take care of it.” 

“Nah, I got it,” you tell him. “You’re hurt. I can clean up.” 

“You sure, love?”

“Yes. Go relax,” you say, shooing him away. 

John pulls you into one more kiss, fondling your ass again.

“Stop that!” you chuckle, batting his hands away.

“I'll be waiting,” he says. 

You watch him leave with a smile, noting how more at ease he seems. Your own smile fades, remembering how happy he was the last time. Until you told him you love him, of course. Cursing yourself for dwelling, you set about cleaning the bathroom floor.

It takes longer than you anticipate to mop up all the water, but when you finally finish, you’ve pushed your misgivings aside. Stepping into the bedroom, you pause, momentarily stunned. 

Candles have been lit on the dresser and nightstand, while John kneels on the bed, a nearly finished cigarette in his mouth. 

“What’s this?” you ask, smirking. 

“John Constantine special,” he grins, taking a drag. “Felt some knots in your back. Want me to work those out?” 

“Are you offering a massage by way of an apology?” you ask. 

“Aye, up for it?” 

You drop your towel as you cross to the bed, noting how John’s eyes rake up and down your body. “Fuck yeah I am.” You crawl across the bed to lay down in front of him. 

“Every John Constantine massage comes with a happy ending guarantee,” he purrs, leaning over to place his cigarette on the  edge of your nightstand. 

You fold your arms under your head. “I would be surprised if it didn’t,” you say. “Massage oil is in the drawer.” 

John retrieves the bottle before straddling your thighs. When his hands run down your back, they’re slick with oil, the warmth making you melt. His touch is always firm and right now it feels like heaven. He presses his thumbs down as he runs his hand up along your spine. 

The pressure is perfect and you moan. He starts to work out the knots in your shoulder blades, making small circles with the pads of his fingers. He works his way down to your back, until eventually his hands gently cup your ass. 

“You're so handsy with my ass today,” you chuckle. “I don’t think there’s tension there.”

“You sure, love?” John says, squeezing roughly. “Better check just to make sure.” 

He sits back on his heels, massaging your ass with his oiled hands. You can’t help but arch into his touch, presenting yourself to him. He hums with appreciation, and you feel an oil-slicked thumb tease your puckered entrance. Suddenly, two fingers slide between your folds instead. You gasp at the unexpected action, but it only happens the one time. 

“Tease,” you accuse as he returns to massaging your back. 

“Maybe a little,” he admits. He cards his fingers through your hair, exposing your neck so he can gently suck on it. His weight is on you now, his fingers finding your slit once more. You’re sensitive from the sex you enjoyed not long ago, but it makes every stroke that much sweeter. Familiar with John’s stamina, you’re not surprised that he’s already up for more. Your own body is responding to the caresses, wetness coating the tips of John’s fingers as he circles your opening. 

“I’d say you’ve worked out all the knots,” you smirk. 

“You sure? I think I missed a spot,” he says. He presses down on your clit and you moan instantly, hips surging upward.

“But if you do that, I can’t give  _ you _ a massage,” you manage to say. 

His hand stops. “Good point,” he agrees. Breaking all contact, he rolls off of you and flops onto his stomach. “Well, come on then.”

You push yourself up onto your hands, body shaking. “That was mean,” you huff. 

John turns his head to face you, grinning cheekily. “What are you gonna do about it?” he asks. 

“I’ll let you know when I’ve decided,” you say. 

You slide onto his lower back and John chuckles when he feels how wet you are. “You’re really warmed up,” he comments. 

“I won’t be the only one in a minute,” you promise, grabbing the massage oil. Instead of pouring it into your hand to warm it, you pour it directly onto John. He immediately flinches at the coolness. 

“Oi!” 

“Whoopsies.” 

Running your hands up his back, they glide through the oil, warming it instantly. John shudders, muscles tensing for a moment before relaxing. You trace along his scars as you try to work out the knots in his back and shoulders. You always love touching John. He inhales every time, leaning into the sensation. Usually he reaches for you, but this time he remains still, letting you rub him down. 

While you carry tension in your shoulder blades, his seems to be everywhere. Carefully, you work through the knots, causing John to melt further into the mattress. 

“Mmm, love, I know you can’t tell, but I’m hard as a rock,” he mumbles, face buried in your pillow. 

Smirking, you slide your hand down his side, reaching around his front to grasp his cock. He looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow at you. 

“Look at that, you are,” you comment. 

John rolls over underneath you, cock trapped between his body and your legs. However, you're more focused on the purple bruise across his ribs. He reaches out to link his fingers with yours, drawing your focus from his injury. “It’s worse than it looks,” he assures you. 

“Looks pretty bad,” you comment. “Does me straddling you hurt?” 

“Nah, no worries, love,” John says, rubbing your thigh. He admires you for a moment before nodding his head. “Lift up.” 

You do as he says and he grips his cock so you can lower yourself onto him. The feeling of fullness never gets old, even when you're feeling it for the second time that night. It wrings a groan out of you and sends heat through your body. 

“Love you at this angle,” John says, voice thick from arousal. He runs his hands up your oil slick torso, finding your breasts. 

As you start to ride him, his thumbs circling your nipples, tweaking and pressing them into hard nubs. You rest your hands on his chest, hips rising and falling steadily. His eyes search yours, but for what, you can't be sure. 

John pulls you down into a kiss, keeping you from moving faster. With one arm hooked around your waist, he slowly fucks you as if he has all the time in the world, the oil making you glide with him effortlessly. His kisses are intoxicating; so hungry and desperate. Tongues dancing together, you taste him a bit more before pushing yourself up. 

Closing your eyes, you lose yourself in the pleasure, bouncing up and down on John’s cock more forcefully. Beneath you, John moans and squirms, gripping your waist. 

“Yeah, ride me,” he growls. “Love watchin’ you fuck yourself on my cock.” 

“John,” you moan. “John, I love your cock.” 

“That right?” You can hear the grin in his voice. “Can tell. You’re so fuckin’ wet. Bloody hell, you’re soaking.” 

He swipes his thumb across your clit, making you jerk violently. You drag your eyes open and find that John’s are closed. You watch enraptured as he throws his head back, biting his lip as you grind onto his lap. 

Between oil, sweat and your arousal everything slips together smoothly. You feel John's free hand slide down your back, and then there's a slick finger pressing into your ass. Your orgasm sneaks up on you and you move urgently, chasing your pleasure. 

“Yes, yes ride me harder!” John croaks. “Fuck, m’gonna come, love!”

“Come, John!” you beg. “Baby, come with me!” 

“Y’should say it.”

Distracted by your impending orgasm, you don't follow. “Hmm? Say what?”

John sits up abruptly, crushing you to his chest as he pounds upwards. “What y’said las’ time,” he grunts. “Tell me.”

There's only one thing you can think. Your mouth runs dry and you have to swallow thickly before you can speak.

“I love you.”

John moans louder than you've ever heard him moan, then his hard mouth is claiming yours. And in between the kisses, you swear you hear him repeat the words back. But his thumb is rubbing your clit so hard, and you're so far gone, you can't really be sure if you heard right. 

Stars explode before your eyes, and you cling to him tightly as you come. John shouts your name, slamming into you with one more thrust. His mouth closes over yours in one last kiss as you feel his release, his seed seeping out to coat your thighs and his lap. 

Energy gone, you slump against him, panting heavily. “D-Did you say…?”

John nuzzles your neck, lips dragging across your skin teasingly. “Did I say what, love?”

You look up at him. He doesn't need to speak for you to know the answer. It's written all over his face. Brow furrowed with worry, he is eerily still as he waits to see what you'll do next. The urge to question him is strong, but you don't want to scare him away again. So you remain silent, leaning up to give him a soft kiss.

John grabs the back of your head, bringing you with him as he lays down. You refuse to detach from him, even when his soft cock slips out of you and the stickiness between your legs becomes unpleasant. 

You and John lay there, kissing gently. When you inevitably part to catch your breath, you sigh heavily.

“I missed you,” you admit, eyes drooping as the events of the evening finally catch up with you.

John smiles and strokes your cheek. “I missed you too, love,” he says. “More than I care to say out loud. And don't worry ‘bout me ducking out. Won't this time.”

Despite your better judgement, you believe him, snuggling against his chest. John holds you close, hand sliding up and down your arm as he starts to sing under his breath. You've never heard him sing, and you love the sound. Lips brush your forehead and John shifts to get comfortable.

Eventually the singing stops and you realize John's fallen asleep, which is also a first. He's really staying this time.

But despite this, you can't find it in yourself to be happy. Because it's John. And you learned long ago, he will let you down. 

He's so exhausted, he doesn't wake in the early hours of the morning when you ease out from under his arm. Or when you blow out the candles that haven't extinguished on their own. He doesn't even stir when you place a kiss on his forehead. 

Overnight bag in one hand and a note in the other, you stand by the bed watching him for some time. You’re shaking when you lay the paper on your pillow. Because despite loving him, you can't handle the baggage that comes with it. The demons, the magic...you want none of it anymore. And while he may actually love you, you love yourself too much to be a warm convenient body for him to lose himself in when a job goes wrong.

So, it’s with a heavy heart that you leave.

Which means you miss the pain on his face some time later as he reaches out for you, only to find cold sheets and your note:  _ Don't be here when I get back. _


End file.
